


You've Got a Friend In Me

by DemonDean10



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Abandoment Issues, Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Bad Laws, Cat John, Cats, Complicated Relationships, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Friendship, Human Paul, Humour, Hurt John, Hurt Paul, I hope, John is a little shit, Like any cat, M/M, Music, NO Mating Cycles, Ownership, People being mean, Protective Paul, Rise to Fame, Sadness, Sassy John, Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Verbal Abuse, alternative universe, author doesn't know how to tag, but not actually, cat behavior, cat hybrid, dont think that, it aint like that, no bestiality, struggles, those hurt people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:54:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23256508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonDean10/pseuds/DemonDean10
Summary: In a world were the most wanted pets are Felines, a hybrid of a person and a cat, Paul McCartney had no desire to get one. But when he's gifted on for his birthday, he's got no choice to delve into a world without rights, without love, and without protection. But he'll fight for John, he'll love him, and he'll protect him. He will gain the feline's trust and maybe find out that love is made for him.(Basically there are creatures called Felines and John is one of them and they're treated like pets for humans and have little to no rights. its sad. they're people but society wont see that)
Relationships: George Harrison & John Lennon & Paul McCartney & Ringo Starr, George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon & Martha, John Lennon & Mimi Smith, John Lennon & Stuart Sutcliffe, John Lennon & Yoko Ono, John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 26
Kudos: 88





	1. Uno

**Author's Note:**

> hi so this is a crazy idea that i literally got this morning and i wrote this. jaja if only all my ideas were written down this fast.   
> i wanna say that i dont watch anime so this isnt like a 'neko' thing, but also ye it kinda is?   
> i hope you like it.   
> yay  
> love

It was his twenty fourth birthday party and Paul was doing fine. He’d gathered some friends at his house and they’d been joking around all night, playing some games, and drinking cheap beer. By the time people started leaving it was around two in the morning and soon the only people left were his best friend George, George’s boyfriend Ringo, Paul’s ex girlfriend Linda, and...Phil. 

Phil Spector was a guy who couldn’t take a hint. Paul didn’t like him. Nobody liked him. But he’d heard about the party and when he asked, Paul was too good of a person to tell him he wasn’t invited. But now it was three in the morning and the guy didn’t seem too keen on leaving; he was shaking with energy.

It took Ringo and George standing up to leave for Phil to start gathering his stuff. 

“Oh, I almost forgot!” He shouted. “I forgot your gift in my car.”

Paul groaned internally and he glared as his other friends chuckled. “Don’t worry about it, man. It’s okay-“

“No, no. I’ll be right back.” And Phil ran out the door.

Paul sighed.

“I can’t believe you invited him.” Complained George, sneaking an arm around Ringo.

His friend shrugged in response. He didn’t have an excuse, he just hadn’t wanted to be mean. 

The door banged open and Phil came in rubbing his palms and with a small tote bag over his shoulder. He threw it at Paul and said, “Here’s some stuff you’ll need for him.”

Paul caught in a startled motion, “Eh?”

Phil turned his head away and called out, “Come on in, don’t be shy!”

The host and his friends stared at the doorway, waiting for something to appear. Then it did.

A lad, around their age, walked in slowly with bare feet. He looked just like any of them, except for some key parts. He was a feline. Two long cat ears emerged from his mop of auburn hair and a long ginger tail was swishing nervously behind him; perhaps the most striking feature were his eyes, yellow and green with slit pupils. His tail swished dangerously as Phil put an arm around him to bring him closer to the group and he hissed, exposing a row of sharp teeth.

“Ta da!” Phil exclaimed, clearly not bothered. “Best pet you could have. I got him real cheap too.” He chuckled.

Paul was in a bit of a shock, busy staring at the collar around the boy’s neck, so Linda was the first to speak. 

“Has he been out there this whole time?” She asked in an upset tone. She tutted at the feline, “Poor thing, you must be freezing!” 

The feline’s ears twitched. Indeed, he was only wearing obscenely short shorts and a t-shirt too big for his thin body. 

Paul finally managed to speak, “Oh, um. I don’t- I don’t want-“

Linda slapped his arm and gave him a warning glance. She went over to the lad and gently pried him off Specter’s hold. “Come on, let’s get you some hot chocolate, okay?”

The feline seemed to relax in her hold and followed her quietly, avoiding Paul’s gaze. 

Once the door to the kitchen was shut, Paul rounded on Phil. “Mate, what the fuck? I don’t want one!”

Phil didn’t seem preoccupied. “What do you mean? Everyone wants one. They’re cats, but better.” 

“They’re people.” George muttered.

Spector scoffed, “Not really.”

“Besides, I already have Martha.” Said Paul. Martha was his sheepdog and best friend after George and Ringo. 

Ringo raised a hand, “You’ve got to keep him, lad.”

Ignoring Phil’s smug look, George turned to his boyfriend. “Why?”

“Rejecting a feline can be very dangerous.” Ringo said. “The Dingle was home to many abandoned ones, poor bastards. They need a home.”

“And this one had already been returned to the shelter like four times.” Phil added, “Doubt they’ll take him again.”

Paul sighed and closed his eyes. The decent thing to do would be to keep the creature, he knew. But he had no idea how to take care of one! He hadn’t asked for this. 

He was still pondering what to do when Phil left, followed by George and Ringo.

“Call is if you need anything, lad.” Ringo had said and George had given him a big comforting hug. 

So Paul opened the tote bag and looked inside. The first thing he took out was a leash, like the one he had to walk Martha, and he scoffed. Cats didn’t need leashes, much less a ‘human’ one. Then came out the certificate of ownership and right there, in Spector’s handwriting, was his name. Christ, it felt wrong. The certificate gave certain information like age (25) and date of birth (October 9th) but no name. There was also an instruction manual, thank god, and a catalogue for ‘Feline Friends’ a pet shop that was part of the same chain that had shops for regular pets. Paul frequented the store when he was looking for stuff for Martha and knew there was a Feline Friends next to his regular locale. 

He put it all back, took a deep breath, and entered the kitchen. He was met with an interesting scene. 

There was a plate filled with crumbs of what should have been his leftover chocolate cake in front of the feline, who was laying his head on the table and purring as Linda pet his ears. 

Paul cleared his throat and the feline sat up immediately with narrowed eyes.

“Uh, hi.” Was the only thing he said.

Linda smiled at him. “I’d better get going now.” 

“What? Can’t you stay a bit longer?” Paul couldn’t handle the creature alone!

She sighed at him and led him away from the kitchen with a final scratch to the feline’s cat ears.

“Paul,” She started once they were at the main door, “You’ve got a responsibility now. I’ll help when I can; my family had one when I was growing up. You’ll enjoy it, they make good-“

“Pets?” Paul interrupted.

She scowled at him. “ _ Friends _ .” She corrected him. “You’ve got to give him his space at first, but he’ll warm up to you. You’ve got to go shopping tomorrow and get him some clothes, first off. And feed him, poor thing is half starved.” 

Paul buried his face in his hands. “I don’t know if I can do this, I don’t know what to say to him!”

She caressed his arm. “You’re a good guy, Paul. You’ll do just fine.”

And after that and a hug, she was gone. Hesitantly, he returned to the kitchen.

The feline was absently playing with his collar, but he stopped when Paul entered.

They stared at each other.

“So.” Paul started. “What’s your name?” Felines could talk, right?

The lad frowned at him. “You name me what you like.” He answered. His voice was slightly nasal, but a higher pitch than what Paul had expected. The words were broken, as if being tested out. 

Paul shook his head. “But you’ve had ow-owners before, yes?”

The feline nodded, his mouth turned down at the sides as his ears twitched.

“Don’t you have a name you like to be called?”

The creature was quiet for a moment, tail swishing behind him as he thought. Then he looked up at Paul with cautious eyes. “First owner liked calling me ‘John.’” He said.

“That’s what I’ll call you then, okay?” Paul told him. Good thing it was a normal name and not ‘Mr. Whiskers’ or something like that.

John nodded, looking pleased.

Paul nodded back and held the kitchen door open. “Come on then, I’ll show you to your room.” Good thing he had a small guest room.

Brows furrowed, the cat followed him out of the kitchen and up the stairs. He said nothing about the decor or the house. He was quiet as Paul pointed out where the bathroom was and quiet as Paul opened the door to his new room.

“Here you go, uh, John. I’m Paul, by the way.” How has he forgotten to introduce himself? “Paul McCartney.” He offered a hand.

Hesitantly, almost amusedly, the feline took it. Only then did Paul notice his long claws. They shook hands and then Paul stepped away.

He pointed at John’s neck. “You don’t have to wear that if you don’t want- the collar, I mean.” 

John tilted his head, but said nothing.

“If you want to you can, but I don't know if it’s the most comfortable thing.” 

John stared.

“Or maybe it is, I wouldn’t know!” Paul hurried to add.

Nothing.

“Goodnight, then.” 

John just turned his back on him and went into his room.

Paul stared after him and made a thumbs up at nothing. It hadn’t gone too terribly. He could do this. 

He entered his bedroom and was immediately attacked by an excited Martha. He’d kept her locked up for the party in case she decided to eat the pizza. 

She was in bed by the time he had his pajamas on (Did felines need pajamas?) and had brushed his teeth. With a tired sigh, Pauo got on his side of the bed and picked up the manual he’d gotten out of the bag. Martha leaned her shaggy head on his stomach and he pet her as he began to read.

“We’ve got a new friend, Martha.” He whispered. “His name’s John.”

She made a content sound.

“I’ve never had a feline before but it says here that it’s-he’s real easy to maintain.” The manual said ‘It.’ He scowled at the offending paper but kept reading. 

_ Keep contained or it might escape. _

Cats did that all the time, right? And they came back. So it was okay if John wanted to wander around. It couldn’t be illegal. (Though he frankly knew nothing of Feline laws.)

_ Show dominance to feline or it won’t obey _ .

Paul didn’t order people around, not really. Even Martha could drag him around all she wanted. He was only ever controlling when it came to his music. 

_ It is advisable to let felines sleep close to the owner as it builds trust. _

Oh crap. Paul had fucked that one up already. But John didn’t seem to mind and Martha already slept on his bed (More for lonely Paul’s benefit than hers but still). 

Then there was a heading:

_ Sexual Relations with Felines _

Woah. Woooaaah, no. Here was a manual calling them ‘its’ and ‘pets’ yet they advised people on how to fuck them? It wasn’t right. Paul threw the thing to the floor in disgust and buried his face in Martha’s fur. He wasn’t ready for this world.

Not at all.

* * *

The next morning Paul woke up like any normal day (Except it was much later than usual due to the party) and he stretched. Yawning, he took off his pajamas and started the shower.

Martha appeared in his bathroom and barked at him. Oh yeah, she probably wanted to go out. So he opened his bedroom door and went back to the loo.

He’d just taken off his pants when he heard a series of loud barks and the unmistakable sound of a cat howling in distress.

Oh shit. 

Paul took off running out of his bedroom and down the stairs. He’d completely forgotten about John! The last thing he needed was Martha attacking him or vice versa.

He skidded into the kitchen and saw John crouched on the table, hissing with flattened ears and a swishing, puffed tail as Martha ran in circles around him barking in excitement.

“Martha, go outside!” He whistled as he opened the back door. “Come on, girl!”

She obeyed him and ran out happily. Paul shut the door after her and let out a breath. He turned to the agitated lad and raised his hands. “It’s okay now. She was just being friendly.”

John didn’t move from his crouched position but his ears perked up as he ran his narrowed eyes over Paul’s figure.

And then Paul remembered that he was naked. “Oh my god.” He rushes to cover himself for his hands. “I’m so sorry.”

John only raised an elegant eyebrow in response.

Paul started to move out of the room, embarrassed out of his mind. “Uh, don’t worry about Martha. She’ll stay outside for now- I’m sorry again for, y’know.” And he sprinted back to his room. 

* * *

Paul came down an hour later, fully dressed in loose jeans and a cheap blazer over a comfortable t-shirt. He found John dozing on top of the backrest of his sofa, tail swinging down at the floor. He raised his head when Paul cleared his throat.

The man raised the tote bag. “Want to go shopping?”

John didn’t seem particularly interested, but he rolled off the sofa nonetheless and followed Paul out of the house. 

Just as Paul was opening the car door for John, a group of boys walked past the front of the house and started to laugh.

“Here, kitty kitty!” One of them jeered.

The others snapped their fingers and cooed mockingly.

John hissed at them and got in the car angrily. Paul shook his head at them and did the same. 

“Bunch of idiots, best to ignore them.” He said. 

John was trying to get comfortable without squishing his tail and after a few minutes, he seemed to manage it. He looked at Paul after he spoke, but didn’t answer him.

The drive was silent. Paul didn’t want to turn on the radio in case he scared him or something. It was a short drive to the plaza where the shop was and soon the car was parked.

Paul grabbed the tote bag and looked at the leash. “You don’t need this, do you?”

John tilted his head at him.

“Nah.” Paul answered his own question and opened the car door. John climbed out and squinted at the sun above them. Linda was right, he did look thin. 

John followed him to the store and together they stepped in.

It was a bit smaller than Martha’s shop, but still filled with shelves and display cases and racks of clothing. It wasn’t as empty as Paul expected. Plenty of people milled about and some even had their felines following them (All using a leash).

They went to the clothes section first. Paul wasn’t rich by any means so he decided that he could just give John some of his shirts but the trousers were another matter, as they needed a hole for the tail to come out. When asked what he liked, John didn’t answer, but Paul did catch his eyes looking over a pair of white jeans.

So he went over to them. “Do you know your size?” He asked John.

The lad went through the trousers and pulled one out. It was a small. It made sense, there was practically no fat in him.

Paul accepted it and put two pairs of those on the trolley and they kept going. He also got him some sweatpants and a pair of regular jeans. 

It was going well. Paul was staring at some shoes (He could see that his feet were larger than John’s) when he noticed that John was gone. He turned in circles hoping to spot him and walked around the aisles near him.

He jumped when a deep voice came from behind him. 

“Sir, does this feline belong to you?” 

Paul turned to see a muscular security guard with a hand on John’s collar and another on his tail.

Paul frowned at the strong hold and answered in the affirmative. 

The guard practically shoved John into Paul. “Why isn’t he on a leash?”

Paul steadied the feline and stepped in front of him. “Well, it’s not like he will-“

“Sir, by law all felines must be leashed in public spaces.” The guard interrupted in a monotone voice. “Do you have a leash?”

“Uh, yes.” Paul answered him and hurried to get it out of the tote bag Phil had given him. He hadn’t meant to break a law! “I’m so sorry, officer. I didn’t mean- that is, I’ve never had one before and-“

The guard interrupted him, “Well, don’t let it happen again.”

“Yes, sir.” Paul said and latched the leash on the hoop on John’s collar. The feline was glaring at the guard, but he didn’t try to stop Paul.

Before he left, the guard spoke up again. “And sir, they do sell muzzles in here.” 

“Oh. Thank you?” Paul muttered as the man walked away. He turned to John, “Why did he say that?”

The feline looked smug and he bared his fangs. “I called man wanker.”

A sharp laugh escaped Paul and he quickly muffled it with the hand that wasn’t holding the leash. Well, the man had deserved it. “Good on you, mate.” He chuckled.

He could almost see a hint of a smile on the feline’s face. 

A while later, after picking up some shoes, a ‘Calming Diffuser’ that a clerk recommended to him, and a scratching pad that John had seemed very excited (Meaning his ears had twitched and his ear brows followed), they were getting ready to leave. But then Paul felt a tug on the leash he was very loosely holding against the bar of the trolley. 

“John?” 

The feline had stayed behind staring at a collar behind a glass. The reason is what in a case was that the collar was made of (thankfully false) leather with twelve authentic diamonds. The moment Paul saw the price, his eyes widened and he stepped away in reflex.

“Sorry, lad. I can’t afford that.” And he was sorry. John was forced to wear a collar and he didn’t even get to wear one he liked, but he needed to buy groceries and pay the water for this month. “Maybe another day.”

John didn’t answer him, but he did move away from the display and started walking to the cashier again. 

The cashier rang their purchases, but stopped as she looked over John.

“Won’t you be filing down it’s claws?” She asked, her tone concerned.

John held his hands close to his chest and his tail swung nervously. 

Paul saw this and shook his head. “Not necessary.”

“But-“

“Not necessary.” Paul repeated and handed over his card. If John didn’t want it, Paul wouldn’t force him.

* * *

Paul called George and Ringo when he got home, leaving John to serve the pizza they’d bought on the way home. He’d bought a fish pizza for John (Even as a vegetarian, he knew that he couldn’t force his diet on a cat person) and a cheese one for him. He would also need to introduce him properly to Martha, Paul couldn’t handle a war on his house.

“How’s everything with the feline?” Asked George.

“Not bad. His name is John.”

“Oh, what made you pick it?” This was Ringo.

Paul shook his head even if they didn’t see it. “I didn’t. I asked him what he liked and he said that his first owner called him that.”

George scoffed over the phone. “‘Owner’ is that what you are? You own a person now?”

Paul sighed and he heard Ringo do the same. 

“George, it’s not like that. It’s just what it’s like. I don’t like it but the law is insane.” Ringo answered.

Paul spoke up, “Apparently he has to have a leash if he goes out?” He asked of Ringo.

“In the eyes of the government, he’s a pet. An animal.” Ringo said. “He’s got no rights apart from some anti-cruelty acts and even those are flimsy. It’s a good thing he’s with Paul, at least he’s safe there.”

George sounded upset. “Take care of him, then. We’ll go over soon and you can introduce us proper.”

“Yeah, that’d be great, Georgie.” Paul answered. 

They said goodbye and Paul entered the kitchen. 

John had started eating his slices, but he’d put a few (maybe too many) on a soup plate for Paul. Yes, a soup plate. It was alright, he could work with that. 

So he sat down and offered a smile to the lad across from him. “So.”

John raised his eyebrows and meowed inquisitively. 

Paul chuckled at the adorable sound and decided to share information about himself. If John knew him, he’d trust him.

“I’m a musician, or at least I’m trying to be. Do you like music?”

John’s ears perked up. “Buddy Holly.”

“Yes, he’s a singer. You like him?” Pup encouraged.

John nodded. “Jimi Hendrix.”

“Love his work, a real genius.” Paul was happy the man had good taste.

“Elvis Presley.”

“The king.”

“Chuck Berry.”

“A god.”

“Fats Domino.”

“Yes, go on!”

“Little Richard.”

“My biggest inspiration.”

“Paul McCartney.”

“Yea- oh.” Paul froze and stared at him.

John raised an eyebrow and smirked.

Paul giggled and reddened. “Thank you.” The lad hadn’t even listened to him yet! 

When they were done eating, Paup moved the plates to the sink and said, “Are you ready to properly meet Martha?”

“Dog doesn't like me.” Was his answer.

“Oh no, she loves ya! Promise. She won’t hurt you.” He smiled at the feline. “Martha is nice, I swear.”

John narrowed his eyes and let out a minuscule sigh, then he nodded.

Paul grinned and hurried to the door. “Don’t be frightened, okay? She’s just happy to see us.” And he opened the door. Before Martha could go running around madly, he hugged her neck and held her back. “Hey, girl. Sit- sit!”

She listened and patted loudly in his ear.

Paul grinned and motioned for John to come closer. “This is John. Remember how I mentioned him?”

She barked and John jumped nearly a foot on the air.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Paul soothed and offered his hand. 

After a few moments, John crouched and took it. Slowly, Paul guided it to Martha’s hair and directed it in petting motions. Martha leaned into it. When he saw that John was doing it on his own, he let go.

The feline’s eyes were narrowed at the dog, but his movements were gentle and smooth. He caught Paul’s eyes and his ears twitched.

The man smiled proudly at him. 

“Welcome home.”


	2. Dos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> three uploads in a day? I'm on a roll!  
> hope you like this one C8

The next morning Paul came down the stairs to find John napping on top of the television. 

“Uh, John?” 

The feline’s tail flickered disinterestedly.

Paul walked closer, “Hey, I’m not sure this is safe for you.” Or the telly. 

There was no answer.

The man sighed. “Do you not like your bed?” 

“Not really. Too soft.” 

Paul nodded, “Alright then. But please, could you come down?” 

Elegantly, John stood up (on the damn television) and jumped off. He landed soundlessly and walked past a shocked Paul. “Hungry.” He said.

The human followed him into the kitchen. “How much do you weigh?” He asked.

The feline sat himself down and played with his claws. “Hundred pounds.”

Paul nearly dropped the tuna can he was opening. “What?” That couldn’t be right. Half cat or not, no man that tall should weigh so little.

John shrugged one shoulder, not seemingly concerned. He licked his lips when the tuna was served to him and bared his fangs. 

Paul, meanwhile, decided to eat some cereal. He sat in front of John and they ate in silence. Martha was outside, napping in the shade. 

“So, what are your plans for today?” Paul asked him.

John tilted his head at him, licking a finger for any residual tuna flavour. He didn’t answer.

Of course he didn’t have any plans, thought Paul angrily. He was a pet. “Would you like me to play you some of my songs?” He asked hopefully.

John’s cat eyes squinted at him. “Yes.” He said simply. 

Paul grinned. “Okay, I have some stuff to do and then I’ll call you, okay?”

John gave a single nod and silently slithered out of his chair. Elegantly, he walked out of the kitchen and back into the living room. 

Paul saw him go, appreciating the graceful way in which he moved. Shaking his head, he turned to the stack of mail he’d picked off from the door. Bills, bills, useless coupons, a Feline Friends catalogue, a- oh. Paul took it out of its plastic wrapping and looked at the cover. Three frankly attractive felines were staring straight at the camera, cat eyes staring into Paul’s soul. He flipped through it, skipping all the expensive brands until he came to a black glossy page titled ‘Lingerie’.

Paul wrinkled his nose in distaste, but in the end his curiosity won out and he flipped through the pages. Felines covered in leather and silk were put into different positions, faces covered in makeup and tails held straight up. Some were tangled in sheets, while others wore harnesses and nothing else. Apparently, Feline ‘Friends’ was also a BDSM shop. 

Paul closed the catalogue with a sigh. Well, the rest of the catalogue was normal so he’d give it to John in case he wanted something. 

After all, he doubted the man would be interested in sexy stuff.

* * *

“I like this.” John pointed a claw at a female feline wearing a harness that went from her neck to her thighs.

Paul choked on his tea. “Um.”

They were in his music room, where John had decided to sit on the piano lid and peruse the catalogue. The calming diffuser was plugged into the wall, so John appeared less tense and more chill.

The feline tilted his head, “What?”

Paul giggled awkwardly. “That’s, Uh, for y’know-“

“Sex?” John interrupted, tail swinging loosely behind him.

Paul coughed. “Yeah.” He choked out.

John tilted his head at him, ears twitching. “Does it have to be? I think I will look good in this, just for me.”

Paul couldn’t deny that yes, John would probably look good in the damn thing but it would just be too weird. He looked down at the piano keys and bit the inside of his cheek. “Listen,” He started. “John, I’m not looking for any kind of  _ sexual  _ relationship with you.” He said.

John stared at him for a few long moments, tail rigid against his back. “You aren’t ?” He finally whispered.

Paul shook his head. 

John’s ears twitched.

Paul smiled.

John opened his mouth to speak.

“I still want the harness.”

Paul laughed despite himself.

* * *

George and Ringo had wondered if they could come over and Paul had promised he would ask John. As expected, the feline had just stared at him for a long time and then went back to sleep.

So the boys were coming over for pizza and a movie, which Paul was trying to get John to pick.

“I don’t understand.” John said with a frown. “You cannot go back to the future.”

Paul bit back a sigh. “Well see, there’s a time machine- you know what that is?”

John raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Right, sorry. And they use this time machine to go the future, but they fuck it up so they have to go to  _ back _ to, to the future to- wait no. No wait, they go  _ back _ to the past...hold on, then why-“

A loud sigh of boredom interrupted him.

Paul put down the film and picked up the next one. “Ooh, this one is set in space!”

“Aren’t they all?” John muttered, looking at his claws.

Paul frowned, “No, not really-“

“The Earth is in space, therefore everything is set in space.” 

The human sighed. “I refuse to think about that.” He muttered and raised the movie again. “So a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away-“

“How far?”

Paul sighed again. “I don’t know, John. But there’s an evil empire and a princess and a smuggler and space wizards called Jedi!”

“Not interested.” The feline drawled, swinging his tail languidly.

Paul looked at the pile he’d gathered and racked his brain for a good choice. “How about Jaws? It’s about a shark.” Besides, George would probably be scared shitless the entire time and that was always fun.

“I detest water.”

“Okay then. Oh! Star Trek, the voyages of the Starship Enterprise, there’s an alien with a bowl cut and an angry Doctor, but I only have the second one. Basically, the captain abandoned a guy named Khan in a planet and now he wants revenge-“

“Nope.”

“...How about Footloose? A kid moves to a town where dancing is forbidden and he fights against the establishment!”

Paul felt hope as John’s flickered upwards, but then the feline returned to his claws with a yawn.

The human sat back on his heels and rubbed his face. “What movies have you seen before?” He asked, praying there was an answer.

John’s brows furrowed in thought. “I haven’t seen a film since my first owner.” He admitted softly.

Paul’s heart dropped. Spector had said that he’d been returned to the shelter four times, which most have meant that it had been a long time since that first owner. 

John tilted his head, searching his memories. “His name was Albert- no, Alfred. He owned me and...my mother. It was she that named me John.”

“What was her name?” Paul asked softly.

“Julia.” John murmured, just as softly. “She was his favourite so she was allowed to show me films.” He explained. “We watched one about a baby deer-“

“Bambi.” Paul cut in with a small smile.

John turned to him, eyes bright. “Yes, that’s it. And one about a baby elephant called...Dumbo?”

“That’s right.” Paul nodded.

They fell silent, but Paul couldn’t fight the urge to inquire further.

“John, if you don’t mind me asking...what happened? Spector said that you’d been, um, returned? To the shelter that is.” He kept his voice gentle, not wanting to push the other into telling him.

John’s tail stillled and his ears flickered nervously. He narrowed his eyes at Paul, tilting his head backwards. “Why do you want to know?” He asked, tone suspicious.

Paul shrugged. “Because you’re my friend.” He said, “And I’d like to know you better.”

“I’ve never had friends before.” John murmured in wonder.

Instinctively, Paul took the man’s- because he was a man- hand with his own and held it tightly. “Well, you have one now.” He whispered.

John’s wide cat eyes stared into Paul’s, a heartbreaking amount of gratitude and incredulity apparent in his gaze. He swallowed a few times and looked down, picking at the white sweater Paul had given him with his free hand.

“I must have been around four or five when Alfred died and we were inherited by a friend. John Dykins.” His lip curled and his fangs were bared. “He never cared for me- but he was very fond of Julia. He sent me to the shelter when I was seven. I never saw her again.”

“Oh, John…” Paul didn’t know what to say. He’d lost his own mother to cancer, but he’d never been stolen away from her. “I’m so sorry.”

The feline turned his face away and sniffed, clearly trying not to cry. He did squeeze Paul’s hand gratefully. “Child felines are not very popular, but an old couple bought me to cheer up their depressed feline. She was barren, you see.” He shook his head, “But I couldn’t help her. She threw herself in front of a moving train.”

Paul gasped. That poor woman...and poor John; he was probably blamed for not making her happy.

John confirmed his suspicions. “I was sent back soon after. And many times after that.” His expression was cool, angry for the first time over his treatment. He’d been passed around like a bad penny, when he’d always done his best to be loved. But no one ever had.

And now here was Paul, who didn’t want him as a pet or a sex toy, but a friend! John’s slit eyes looked over his owner and saw a kind, welcoming man. Perhaps John could try to be welcoming back. Maybe it was time to open his heart again, just an inch. Maybe Paul wouldn’t throw him out. 

Paul let out a startled laugh as John rubbed his cheek against his shoulder, purring loudly. Hesitantly, he rubbed his own cheek against John’s hair, bumping his ears.

They were still doing this when the front door opened (George stole and made a copy of the key three years ago and Paul had just accepted it) and two voices called out, “We bring food! All Hail Us!” In deep voices.

John moved away from Paul, elegantly crawling to the top of the sofa in less than two seconds.

Paul stood up as his friends entered the room, holding four boxes of pizza. “‘Ello, chaps.” He greeted them.

George gave him the pizza boxes without much care and walked over to the feline.

John would have appeared completely relaxed if not for the way his tail stood ramrod straight. 

“Hello, John.” George said kindly. “My name is George and this here is Ringo.”

“Hello, lad.” The short man said with a smile.

“We’re Paul’s best mates. We brought you a fish pizza!” George finished.

The feline stared at them, eyes shifting from one human to the other. Then he turned his head to Paul and the boxes in his hand. “I enjoy fish pizza.” He said simply, sounding almost shy.

George chuckled, visibly relaxing, and clapped his hands. “Good, that’s good.” 

And John  _ did _ enjoy it, he enjoyed it so much that he stole half of Paul’s cheese one. They ended up watching Finding Nemo, which no one complained about, and if John had curled up on Paul’s lap and purred as the human caressed his hair- well, the other two kept their mouths shut.

* * *

John had been napping on the window still(How he didn’t fall off was one of life’s greatest mysteries) when Paul burst into the living room, waving a box around.

With a sharp meow, John woke up and jumped up with claws bared.

“Woah, sorry.” Paul said sheepishly. He held out the box, “It’s only, I got something for you.”

John relaxed immediately and tilted his head. Silently, he marched over to Paul and took the box without a word of thanks. “I do not fit here.” He complained, measuring it against his size.

Paul huffed out a laugh. “The present isn't the box, it’s inside!”

With a raised eyebrow, John set the box on the table and opened it, gasping as he looked inside. His tail swished happily as he took out the harness, holding it against his body.

Paul grinned. They would have to do without a few luxuries for a couple weeks, but John deserved a little something to make him happy. He only hoped that the feline would wear something beneath the straps.

Dragging the now empty box to ‘his’ corner of the living room (Next to his scratching pad and three balls of yarn) John stood up and faced Paul. “This was nice of you.” He said, tail till swishing behind him.

Paul waved him away. “Don’t mention it. Now go on, put it on!”

With a grin, John hurried past him and ran up the stairs to his room (Their beds had been switched by now) to get it on.

Paul chuckled and went into the kitchen to start cooking dinner. A part of his mind wondered if John had worn harnesses like that one before and for other reasons, but Paul pushed that part down. The feline was happy and that was all that mattered.

He’d just finished feeding Martha when he heard John’s voice in the doorway.

“I took some clothes from your closet. I needed them.” 

Paul turned and nearly dropped the spatula in his hand. With a dry throat, he croaked, “T-That’s okay.”

John had borrowed a pair of dangerously tight white leggings that Paul had ripped on the first try because they were just so goddamn tight that he couldn’t bend over (so now there was a hole perfect for his tail) and a tank top that Paul reserved for desperate clubbing. The black straps covered his chest, upper arms, waist, and thighs. He looked like he’d come straight out of a porno magazine. 

Yet he appeared to be completely comfortable. The feline went to his stool and sat in it, just as unemotionally and elegantly as always. But as Paul gave him his tune, he surprised the human by murmuring a ‘thank you.’

Paul blinked, then smiled. “Sure, no problem.” As he went to his own seat, he decided to speak, “The, er, harness looks good! Was it hard to put on?”

The feline shook his head, “No. I’ve worn them before.” He said, “But it is more comfortable to wear clothes underneath.”

Paul choked on his juice and blinked up at John. “Oh.” 

John looked at him and tilted his head, “Problem?” 

“No, I…” He sighed, “John, the other day you seemed surprised to learn that I didn’t want you for sex.”

“I was.” The feline said shortly. 

“Why?”

John stared at him, seemingly lost for words. His tail was still as he sat in silence, searching for the right words. He’d promised himself he would be more open with Paul and he was sure that the man was legitimately clueless. It was endearing. He put down his tuna bowl and took hold of one of the looser straps, playing with it. “I am young.” He started, “I am fit and I am not ugly.” He looked at Paul through his eyelashes. 

The human chuckled despite himself, “No, you’re not.”

“My last two owners kept me as a concubine feline.” John said, not seemingly bothered by this disturbing fact. “When your friend bought me for you-”

“He’s not my friend.” Paul hurried to say, raising a pleading hand. 

Was it him or did John relax at the words? 

“Either way.” John kept going. “He said certain things that made me assume you wanted me as a concubine too.”

Paul sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I’m sorry about that.” He muttered, angry on John’s behalf for the life he’d led. 

John shrugged and went back to his fish. “This is good, though. This way you won’t send me back when I fail to please you.” He laughed.

Christ, he laughed. Paul regarded him with pity, which John caught. 

“Do not pity me.” The feline hissed, narrowing his eyes. “I do not appreciate pity.”

Paul startled at the tone and looked away. “Sorry.” He said and returned to his own breakfast. 

It was a few minutes later when the silence was broken by the feline. 

“I want to hear the song again. The one about the girl.” He said tonelessly and without looking at Paul.

But the human took it for what it was, an olive branch. He had sung plenty of songs about girls to John the other day and the feline had seemed to enjoy them very much. That was good. “Sure.” He said with a smile and was glad when the feline returned it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hewo please leave comments thank you i need them to live
> 
> jaja i hope you liked this chapter C8  
> and if there's anything you'd like to see happen on this fic, tell me!  
> my tumblr is @fanficmoi if u wanna chat

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed the first chaoter of this odd story. C8   
> please leave a comment. 
> 
> or a kudo.
> 
> or both yay
> 
> my tumblr is @fanficmoi if you want to come back and give me ideas. I don't have a cat so im doing tons of research but anything can help! we can also talk about other stuff. hi yay.


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